


like sinking ships

by goinginvisible



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1323565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinginvisible/pseuds/goinginvisible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like everything in the world suddenly makes sense, him and his girl and his best friend, everything Miles has ever wanted, all in one place.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Set in the "Dreamcatcher" AU-verse.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	like sinking ships

Bass is sitting on the sofa in the shitty motel Miles has been living in the last few months, watching the Blackhawks lose to the Red Wings, when he hears the door open behind him.

“Hawks are still down by one,” Bass says, turning around and expecting to see Miles back from his beer run. But it’s not Miles standing the doorway, it’s Rachel, and _shit._ What the hell is it with the two of them?

When she sees Bass, she freezes, one hand still on the door knob, her eyes wide and a surprised look on her face. 

“Bass,” Rachel says, her eyes scanning the room, like she’s looking for Miles. When she doesn’t find him, her gaze settles back on Bass, and she smiles, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She closes the door and tucks a shiny strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

Bass groans tips his head back against the couch, looking at her upside down. She must have come straight from work because she’s in a tailored black suit and heels, her make-up all done up and her hair straight and shiny. 

“Seriously?” he says, not even bothering to hide the exasperation from his voice. “You and Miles are _killing me_ , Rachel!”

Rachel blinks. “I didn’t--” she starts, but Bass just shakes his head and holds up his hands in surrender. He gives up, he really does.

“No, no, don’t try to explain.” He shakes his head again and pushes up from the couch, crossing the room in three quick strides and giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, before wrapping his arms around her. “I give up,” he tells her. “I’m done trying to protect you from him, or him from you, or whatever.” 

“Sorry,” she tells him, giving him a quick squeeze. In her heels, she’s as tall as he is, her lips brushing right up against his ear. She smells nice, like soap and some kind of perfume, something bright and expensive. “I’m glad to see you, Bass.”

Bass scoffs as he takes a step back. “Liar,” he says with a smile, and she laughs. “Miles isn’t here.”

“Oh,” Rachel says, and she does a pretty good job of keeping the disappointment out of her voice. If Bass didn’t know her as well as he does, he might not even notice it. “Where is he?”

“No idea,” Bass lies, heading back over to his spot on the couch. “I think he might be gone for good. Driven away by his tragic love for some married blonde chick. It’s pathetic, really.”

Rachel rolls her eyes and strips off her jacket, tossing it across the back of the couch. “Ha ha,” she says, dropping down next to him and leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. 

Bass presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and shifts so that he can put his arm around her, pulling her close against his side. Rachel sighs as she settles against him, the two of them watching the game in companionable silence for a couple of minutes. The Hawks are starting to rally, which makes Bass feel irrationally better, like maybe tonight isn’t headed for total disaster. But the longer they sit there like that, the more Rachel starts shifting restlessly, like she's physically uncomfortable without Miles around, and Bass decides he's had enough.

“So,” he finally says. “How’s Ben?” 

Rachel tenses beside him, clearing her throat and sitting up straight, her posture rigid. “He’s fine,” she says, her tone clipped.

Bass nods. “And the kids?”

She turns to glare at him, but he just stares back, schooling his face into as innocent an expression as he can manage.

“They’re fine,” she tells him. Her voice has gone cold and hard, the Rachel-equivalent of shrill and he knows he should probably shut the hell up before he pisses her off for real. 

But he’s spent the past two days watching Miles drink himself sick over her, and Bass has never been one to back down in a fight, so. “They’re not expecting you home tonight?” 

Rachel looks down at the floor, a curtain blonde hair falling in front of her face. “I was supposed to be in a meeting tonight, but it was cancelled at the last minute, so,” she shrugs, glancing back up at him. 

“So...what?” Bass asks. “You came here to fuck with Miles’s head instead?” 

Rachel blinks, a hurt expression flickering across her face so fast he almost misses it. And, okay, yeah, he’s being a dick, but whatever. This whole drama is getting to be exhausting.

“Seriously, Rachel,” he says. “Why did you come here?”

“I--I don’t know. I just…” she starts, but doesn’t say anything else, her mouth opening and then closing again as she stares at the ground, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. “I should go.” 

She actually stands up, before Bass moves out to stop her. “Rachel, wait,” he says. 

But she ignores him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and reach over him for her jacket, stubborn as always.

He grabs her hand, intercepting her. “Come on, Rachel. I’m sorry, okay?”

“No, no, you’re right,” she says, but there’s not much conviction in it. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t say that,” he says. “Besides, if Miles finds out you were here and that I made you leave, he’ll kill me.”

She softens at that, her eyes flicking down to look at him, the corner of her mouth starting to curl up in a familiar almost-smile. Bass smiles back, bringing her hand up and giving her knuckles a chaste kiss.

They’re still just like that -- Rachel standing in front of the couch, Bass holding her hand in both of his -- when Miles shows up, a 12-pack of cheap beer tucked under his arm. When he sees Rachel, his expression softens, his face going kind of open and dopey. It only lasts for a second before he blinks, rolling his eyes and kicking the door shut behind him.

“Gee, guys,” he says, and he sounds more like himself than he has in days, since Bass first got here. “Don’t mind me.”

*

When Miles opens the door to his room, he’s not expecting to see Rachel there, and he just stops dead in his tracks, not sure what's going on.

The truth of it, he’s more than a little drunk, drunk enough that when he first opens the door and sees her there, standing in front of Bass in her somber black suit, Miles actually thinks she might be a hallucination, some kind of vision, like the kind he sees every night in his dreams. But then he notices the pinched look on her face, a look that turns a little panicky when she sees him walk through the door, and he realizes she is all too real. The Rachel of his dreams is always smiling and happy to see him. She’s also usually a lot more naked than this Rachel. Not that the suit isn’t nice, it’s just way more clothes than his fantasy Rachel normally wears.

And then he notices that Bass is holding her hand sort of desperately, and even as drunk as he is, Miles can put two and two together. Well, at least Rachel’s pissed off at someone else for a change. That's a little refreshing.

So he squares his shoulders, and makes a crack about interrupting them, but it makes Rachel and Bass both smile, so. He’s going to call it a win. It’s the little victories that count these days anyway. 

He heads over to the couch, setting the case of beer on the coffee table and grabbing a can, taking a long, deep drink before dropping down on the opposite side of the couch from Bass. Rachel's still standing between them, blocking his view of the television. Miles kicks his feet up on the coffee table and clears his throat, trying to ignore her. "You just going to stand there all night?" he asks her, and she blinks, her face turning hard and serious.

"I--" she starts, but then Bass is talking over her, in a totally obvious attempt to derail any kind of serious conversation happening. “You’re not going to offer us any?” Bass asks. “What kind of a host are you, man?”

“Yeah, Miles,” Rachel adds primly, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “You’re being very rude.”

“Fuck you both,” Miles says, and nudges the beer over with the toe of his boot, sliding it across the coffee table towards Bass, only stopping when he leg bumps up against Rachel’s skirt-clad thigh. “Get it yourself.”

Rachel rolls her eyes, but she reaches down to grab a couple of beers, leaning over so that Miles gets a really great view of her ass. A view he leans back against the sofa and admires openly, at least until Bass reaches over and smacks him on the arm with the back of his hand. 

“Eyes on the game, pal,” he commands, reaching up to take the beer Rachel’s handing him. 

Miles glares at him, but looks back at the television by the time Rachel settles in between them, close enough so that the whole left side of her body is pressed up against Miles. 

He forces himself to keep his eyes on the television as she pops the top on her beer and takes a long drink.

“Ugh, Miles,” she says, glancing over at Miles and pulling a face. Miles smirks before he can stop himself. “How the hell can you drink this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness,” Miles says, reaching and putting his arm along the back of the couch so that his hand ends up between Rachel and Bass, brushing against both of their shoulders. “I think there’s some whiskey in the kitchen if you’re looking for something a little more high class.” 

Beside her, Bass snorts, and Rachel elbows him in the ribs, hard enough that Bass winces. “Shut up, Bass.”

Miles raises his can, taking a drink to hide the smile that’s threatening to break out on his face. “Both of you shut up,” he grumbles. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see them trade eye rolls, but he ignores them. The truth is, he’s been trying to watch the game since it started, but between getting wasted to forget about Rachel and complaining to Bass about Rachel and now concentrating on how the feel of Rachel’s body next to his, he’s actually got no idea what’s going on. But, still. He _wants_ to be watching the game, something that would be a whole lot easier if the two of them weren’t constantly distracting him. Which they are currently doing, the two of them talking to each other in low voices, their foreheads almost pressed together they’re so close, Rachel’s arm looped through the crook of Bass’s elbow, the two of them looking just thick as thieves, whispering together like a couple of schoolgirls.

“Seriously, you two,” Miles finally snaps. The second period is ending, but he’s still got no idea what’s going on. “Either shut the hell up or get the hell out of here.”

Rachel laughs, which isn’t quite the response he was looking for, but he feels his annoyance draining away just the same. She just has a really great laugh is the thing. “We’re sorry, Miles,” she says, schooling her face into what she probably thinks is a serious expression, but the corners of her mouth are still curled up at the corners. “We’ll be quiet, won't we, Bass?” 

She looks over at Bass and takes another long drink. Miles watches her throat work, pale and smooth as she swallows as she finishes her beer, leaning over to set the empty can on the coffee table. When she does, her shirt rides up a little, revealing a smooth, pale expanse of skin at the small of her back. 

“Yeah, man,” Bass says. He’s still got Rachel’s arm hooked through his, and Miles tries not to hate him for that. “We’re sorry.”

“Yeah, right,” Miles grumbles. But then when Rachel sits back, she reaches for his hand, lacing her fingers through his, and Miles freezes, his beer halfway to his mouth. Her fingers are cold from the beer, but her skin is as soft as always.

“This okay?” she asks. 

Miles nods. “Yeah,” he says, and she smiles like she means it. 

“Good,” she says, and then she leans over and rests her head against his shoulder with the kind of casual intimacy that makes his chest feel tight, and it’s suddenly like everything in the world makes sense, him and his girl and his best friend, everything he’s ever wanted all in one place.

*

When Rachel wakes up, the hockey game is over and the television’s showing some old black and white movie, the volume turned down low, and Bass is passed out against her side, snoring gently. 

She blinks, trying to get her bearings; she’s still a little buzzed from the beer, everything taking on a hazy, vaguely unreal quality. When she looks up at Miles, he’s awake, staring blankly at the TV like he’s not really seeing whatever it is he’s watching. 

“Hey,” she says, real quiet, and he blinks, looking down at her with this half smile that makes her breath catch in her throat. His hair’s a rumpled mess, and he looks strangely young, watching her in the flickering light of the television. 

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, and reaches over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. His fingers are warm and rough and familiar against her skin, and she leans into his touch without meaning to. 

When he kisses her, she doesn’t pull away, even though she knows she should. There’s a lot of thing she knows she should do, actually -- pull away, get off the couch, get in her car, drive home to her family -- but she can’t bring herself to do any of them, not with the way that Miles is touching her, kissing her like she’s the only thing that matters. 

He tastes familiar -- like alcohol and lust and regret -- and Rachel just...she loves him. Which is completely unfair, she knows -- unfair to him and to her and to Ben and to her kids, and probably even to Bass, who’s still sleeping beside them -- but it’s just, it’s true. She loves him. 

Miles is working on the buttons to her blouse when Bass shifts beside them, grumbling sleepily and then snuffling against her shoulder. He’s still got one arm hooked loosely through hers, his body a warm, comforting weight beside her. 

“Hey, guys, come on,” Bass mumbles, sounding groggy and half-asleep. “At least have the decency to wait until I’m out of the room...”

“You were sleeping!” Miles protests. 

Rachel rolls her eyes, pulling away and glancing back at Bass. He’s watching them sleepily, and he rubs his face with his free hand, yawning hugely and then reaching up to rake a hand through his hair, mussing up the curls. 

“Sorry, Bass,” she says, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. She hits the corner of his mouth instead, his lips cool and dry against hers. 

He starts, and his eyes are very, very blue.

“Sorry,” she says again, her lips still brushing his. He tastes vaguely like the beer they’ve all been drinking. Behind her, Miles shifts, hitching up one leg onto the sofa and his free hand coming up to rest on her leg, just below the hem of her skirt. 

When Bass cups his hand around the back of her neck, Rachel hears Miles suck in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening in hers as he moves even closer to her, hitching one leg up onto the couch, so that his chest is pressed flush against her back, and she kisses Bass back before she can stop herself.

She’s still kissing Bass when Miles slides his hand up her thigh and starts pressing soft, urgent kisses to the side of her throat, and Bass sweeps his tongue against her lower lip, and it’s the most amazing thing that Rachel’s ever felt, the two of them touching her like this. 

The three of them are breathing heavy when she finally pulls away, and when she glances back at Miles, his eyes are dark and heavy-lidded. He moves closer to her, close enough that she can feel him, hard against the small of her back. 

His hand is under her skirt, and he strokes his thumb up, just brushing against where she’s already impossibly wet, and she gasps. 

Bass is looking a little dazed, his hair mussed and his eyes wide, watching as Miles brushes the hair away from her neck, pressing another soft kiss to the side of her throat, his fingers still working under her skirt. 

Rachel tilts her head to give him better access, at the same time, she tugs gently on Bass’s arm where it’s still linked with hers, pulling him towards her and Miles. He blinks, and then he swallows hard, his eyes dark as he watches Miles press soft, slow kisses against her throat.

Her heart is racing away in her chest, and there’s a languid, hot feeling deep in her belly, and she reaches over, touching Bass through his 

“What the hell are we doing?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against hers, but he’s still watching Miles, his eyes wide and dark. 

“Do you want to stop?” she asks, trailing her fingers up to flick open the button on his jeans, and he breathes out a startled laugh.

“Not even a little.” He shakes his head and kisses her again.

“Good.” Rachel nips at his bottom lip, and he makes a quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat.

“What’d I tell you two about shutting up?” Miles mutters, and Rachel can feel him smirking against her throat. 

“Fuck you, man,” Bass says, smiling, and then he’s putting his hand on Rachel’s leg, too, sliding his fingers up her inner thigh, following the same path as Miles, his touch lighter than Miles’s, his fingers long and thin, different enough from the way Miles touches her that she can actually feel the difference. 

Rachel gasps, tipping her head back against Miles’s shoulder and closing her eyes as she feels Miles lace his fingers through Bass’s, their fingers sliding against each other and then against her, wet and slick, before Bass curls one finger up inside of her, Miles stroking her clit, and Rachel bites down hard on her lip to stop herself from moaning.

She hears Bass’s breath hitch in his chest, feels both him and Miles shift, moving closer, and when she opens her eyes, they’ve got their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard, their eyes locked, watching each other. 

“Miles,” Bass breathes out, and then they’re kissing, the stubble on Miles’s chin rasping loudly against Bass’s beard, and it’s the sexiest thing Rachel’s ever seen. 

She’s still watching them as Bass slides another finger inside of her just as Miles sucks on Bass’s full lower lip, and then Rachel’s coming, her body shuddering and shaking as she grinds against their hands.

By the time she’s able to think clearly again, Miles and Bass are urging her up, the three of them stumbling towards the bed on the other side of the room, kissing and touching and pulling off their clothes as they go, Bass walking backwards as Rachel and then Miles follow him across the room.

When they finally make it to the bed, Rachel’s already aching for them again, and she tumbles down so that she’s on top of Bass, his cock hard and hot against her stomach, and his mouth red and wet from kissing her and Miles. 

Behind her, Miles reaches around and cups his hands around her breasts, flicking his thumbs against her nipples until she moans, arching her back, her hips jerking against Bass. 

“Jesus, Rachel,” he pants, and, behind her, Miles groans, and she hears the rasp of his zipper as he starts to strip out of his jeans, and then she can feel him against her back, ready and familiar, reaching around her to slide his arm under her stomach, his hand brushing Bass’s cock and he urges Rachel up into a kneeling position, her legs on either side of Bass’s hips.

Beneath her, Bass pushes himself up onto his elbows, leaning in to trace his tongue along the curve of her left breast, and she shivers, despite the heat that’s spread throughout her body, settled deep in her belly and between her legs.

Rachel feels like she’s coming undone, all of this happening way too fast and way too much, and it’s complete sensory overload, like her brain’s short circuiting. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, trying to steady herself, trying to get her bearings, figure out what the hell she’s doing. She’s still long enough for Miles and Bass to realize something’s up. 

“Hey,” Miles says, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear. “You okay?”

Miles’s hands are hot against her skin, and Bass is solid beneath her, and this is a mistake, she knows this is, knows the smart thing would stop this here, stop this now, but she just wants them both _so much_. 

Rachel takes another breath and opens her eyes, biting on her lower lip as she looks down at Bass beneath her, at Miles’s hand, dark and large against the pale, smooth skin on her stomach.

“Yeah,” she finally manages, her voice shaky and breathless. 

“You sure?” Bass asks, and his eyes are dark, barely any blue left around the black. 

Instead of answering, Rachel reaches down to take him in her hand, his hips jerking as she brushes her thumb over the tip of his cock. Behind her, Miles hooks his chin over her shoulder, watching as Rachel touches Bass, Miles’s breath hot and ragged against her cheek. He tightens his grip on her, lifting her up slightly so she can guide Bass inside of her. 

He slides into her easily, she’s soaking wet and already stretched out from his fingers, and Bass groans, tipping his head back against the pillow, his throat long and pale and exposed, as he starts to thrust into her, reaching up to put his hands on her hips. 

As he does, Miles pulls away for just a second, and when Rachel turns her head to see what he's doing, he's opening the drawer to the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. When he sees her watching him, he raises his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Okay?” he asks. 

She nods, not trusting her voice. Miles puts one hand on Rachel’s back, between her shoulder blades, nudging her down gently as he positions himself behind her. She leans down, bracing her hands on Bass’s chest, carding her fingers through the sparse, wiry hair, as Miles kneels behind her, trailing his fingers down the planes of her back. He touches her teasingly, spreading her thighs further apart and then touching her with one slick finger, circling the sensitive skin there, until she’s writhing.

“Miles,” she begs, pressing her palms against Bass’s chest and pushing up to meet Miles. “Please.”

Bass opens his eyes just as Miles slides one finger inside of her, leaning up on his elbows to kiss her, hard and desperate, as Miles pushes a second finger inside of her and then a third, and, god, it feels unbelievable, it feels amazing. Beneath her, Bass’s moving faster, the rhythm of his hips turning erratic, until he closes his eyes again, his body going still and tense as he takes a couple of deep, shaky breaths like he’s trying to get himself under control. 

“Jesus,” Bass says, and his fingers are biting into the sharp lines of Rachel’s hipbones, hard enough that she thinks it might bruise. He starts moving again after just a second, keeping his eyes closed and his head tipped back. 

Behind her, Miles slides his fingers out of her, and Rachel makes a strangled, desperate noise, feeling strangely empty until she feels him behind her again, the tip of his cock pressing against her, hard and slick and feeling almost impossibly big.

Bass opens his eyes again, breathing hard as he watches Miles and Rachel, his hands still on Rachel’s hips, holding her steady and rocking against her gently as Miles pushes inside of her slowly, just a little further, just enough to get her used to it. 

“Okay?” he Miles murmurs in her ear, and Rachel gasps, pushing back into him slightly and then rocking forward. Miles presses a kiss to the side of her throat and then looks down at Bass. “You got her, Bass?”

“Yeah, man,” Bass says, voice rough. He angles his hips up, rising up to meet her as she slides down, his grip on her hips steady as he thrusts into her gently, smooth steady strokes. 

And then, with one final push, Miles is all the way inside of her, and it doesn’t feel too big any more, it feels amazing and perfect, Miles and Bass both filling her up, the three of them as close as they’ve always wanted to be. As Miles reaches down between them, his fingers on her clit and Bass’s cock, Rachel vaguely wonders why it’s actually taken them so long to get here, to get to where all three of them have obviously always wanted to be. 

Miles is breathing into her ear, hot and heavy and wet, and Bass is staring up at the two of them with something like awe, and at times like this Rachel wishes she could shut off the analytical part of her brain, just concentrate on how good it feels – and it does feel good, it feels fucking amazing, better than anything she’s ever felt before – but she can’t, can’t help thinking about how this is more than just feeling good, more than just sex. It’s everything they’ve been building towards – her and Miles and Bass – the three of them circling around each other for the better part of a decade. But now...but now – this – Miles and Bass both inside of her, it’s just, it’s even more than she ever expected it could be. 

She can feel them both throbbing inside of her, both of them feeling almost impossibly huge, filling her up and stretching her out. 

“You gonna come for us?” Miles breathes into her ear, and Rachel moans, the sound loud and obscene in the quiet of the room. 

“Yeah, Rach,” Bass agrees, smirking up at her as he rolls his hips. “Are we doing this or what?” 

Rachel laughs a little at that, but before she can think of a comeback, Miles wraps his hand around the base of Bass’s cock, his knuckles brushing right up against Rachel’s clit. She moans, reaching blindly behind her to pull Miles closer, her hand coming to rest against the back of his neck as she cards her fingers through his hair. Everytime she moves, they both slide out and back in a little bit, both of them filling her up, both of them breathing ragged, and Bass is staring up at the two of them, a vulnerable, open look on his face. 

Miles leans forward, thrusting harder into her, and Bass’s mouth opens, his eyes going wide, like what Miles is doing is hitting him as well, and Rachel realizes that they can feel each other, that they’re practically touching inside of her, and she comes so hard everything goes white, her body shuddering and shaking, only vaguely aware as both Miles and Bass follow her over the edge, their hips jerking in the same erratic rhythm, Miles’s hand still between them, still wrapped around Bass’s dick. 

They collapse on top of the bed, the three of them tangled together, their bodies sticky and sweat-slick, their breathing ragged and harsh. Rachel’s cheek is pressed up against Bass’s chest, Miles still holding her from behind as he pulls out of her, slinging his arm around her waist, his hand coming to rest on Bass’s hip. 

“Whoa,” Miles says. His voice is rough and thick. “That was, just...thanks for dropping by, Rach.”

“Yeah, I gotta say,” Bass says, and Rachel doesn’t even need to look at his face to know he’s smirking. “If I’d have known we were gonna do this, I wouldn’t have given you so much shit earlier.”

“Shut up, Bass,” Rachel says, but she can’t seem to stop smiling. Bass laughs, his chest rumbling under her cheek, his heart beat starting to slow down a little as he comes down.

Behind her, Miles’s breathing has gone slow and even, like he’s already asleep, and Bass has started snoring softly, his body soft and boneless beneath her, and even though Rachel knows she should go home, part of her feels like she already is. So,she doesn't go anywhere, just presses a kiss against Bass's chest, right above his heart, and laces her fingers through Miles's, deciding for tonight, to stay right where she is.

**

end


End file.
